This is my new home. Welcome. It's the dead of morning. It's the born of winter. It's a new road. Here is my beginning. From other places I come. Not a true neophyte but I have been known to be sometimes foolish. Sure on my feet, in my heart, on the street. Hesitant in my brain, resistant to pain and to things that are always the same; I get locked into a groove that nulls me and dumbs me down. Every once in a while I need a good shake-up. I come from other places. Here I am in the dead of morning. The sun has yet to show its purply pink hue.